One More Night
by DeathsLights
Summary: "Just for tonight," Dean pleads, Cas can have this, one night where he's not out there. Where he doesn't have to worry, has a bed, is safe. Just one night. "Please." His voice breaks, "One night."


**I may or may not write another chapter for this, we will see. I wrote this when episode S09E03: I'm No Angel aired and posted it on my tumblr then and now I'm posting it on here. Two warnings readers one, this is unbetaed and second this will make hearts bleed. So if you still want to venture on *opens path* you may do so.**

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**One More Night**

"You can't stay here." He has to grit his teeth and clench his fists, because he has no choice.

The words are heavy, and his skin crawls, nausea is sinking into him. He hates himself right now, but then again he's always had a sense of self-loathing. Winchesters are cursed with it, each of them has it to some varying degree. Right now, he hates himself just a little bit more though.

But he has no choice.

It's_ Sam_.

When he sees his face fall, when merely a few hours–seconds ago he was happy, he barrels on, "Sam is still healing, we have a Prophet to look after, hell Abaddon is on our asses. Cas we can't risk heaven's wrath. It's just too much."

It's silent.

His ears burn.

He wants something, a reaction, protest, anything, just not this. Not the way Cas' eyes shine in understanding. Not the way he lowers his gaze and smiles in resignation like what he's saying makes sense. That he's right.

The next time that Cas looks up at him, he closes off. Or tries to, it doesn't work as well anymore. Can't hide the way his eyes are suddenly brighter, or the way his hands shake, he's human now. And that's a punch in the gut, because Cas is human now–no he crushes that thought before it has a chance to manifest, to fester, and grow.

Castiel nods and slowly rises to his feet, weary as if he can't hold his own weight. He doesn't look at him, keeps his eyes lowered to the ground. "I understand, I will leave."

He moves away from him, walking towards the door. Dean quickly grabbed his arm, stilling him. "Jesus, I didn't mean right now Cas. Stay for tonight okay? Then tomorrow I'll get you something things, so you'll be okay." Cas stiffens, hunching into himself, Dean tries to tell himself that it doesn't hurt seeing him like this, that's it expected that he react like this. It doesn't help to alleviate the ache in his chest.

Cas shrugs of his hand, leaning slight away from him. "Dean I do not think that this is wise, I should go."

"Just for tonight," Dean pleads, Cas can have this, one night where he's not out there. Where he doesn't have to worry, has a bed, _is safe_. Just one night. "_Please_." His voice breaks, "_One night_."

Cas nods after a few minutes and he can breathe a little easier now that his throat isn't so tight. "Alright."

Dean smiles a bit. "Do you want something to eat? I can swing by get you some burgers and–"

"_**No**_**.**" The voice is sharp, and bitter. It stings his ears. "I would like to sleep."

The ache grows. Dean swallows and nods. "Alright, come on." He leads Cas to a spare room, and opens the door. His eyes track Cas as he moves around the room. The is air is weighted, oppressive. Presses against his chest making it hard to breath. He stays near the threshold. He isn't welcome, even if this place belongs to him, he isn't allowed in this room right now. "My room is across the hall if you–"

"You may leave now." He doesn't turn around as he speaks, keeping his back towards Dean.

He deserves this. "Okay," he says, as his throat tightens and dries. He swallows, it's expected. "Okay, goodnight Cas." He knows it's pointless but he still waits, waits for him to turn around, for acknowledgement, for a soft reply.

It doesn't come.

He leaves slowly then, shuffling back to his room, weary and so tired as if his body can't support all the weight he has to bare. He sags down to his bed and drops his face into his hands, taking in a shuddery sigh. He feels exhausted, so burdened, so old, yet so young at the same time, because foolishly he still holds the hope that there is another answer, that Cas can stay. He has to ruthlessly stomp down on it, crush it, because he was never allowed that luxury. To hope. There's always a catch to it. Always has been, and he doesn't want to find out what the price would be to have him.

Instead he focuses on the things he'll need to give Cas, a cell-phone for sure, with GPS so he'll know where he is, money, a credit card, more clothes, food for the road. He'll need to give him some tips, on how to survive, what to do, how to get by. Tomorrow he'll make him a big breakfast, Cas will probably like French toast, with powdered sugar and fruit. Dean chuckles, smiling a bit, he'll like that, he'll go out early get all things he'll need and let Cas sleep in. He can see the blearily, squinted look Cas will give him, his hair will be more messed up then usual as he'll stumble around, yawning. He can do that, give him those, give him tonight and little bit of tomorrow.

He tries to let that ease his guilt.

It doesn't work.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Dean blinks slowly, frowning, he doesn't remember falling asleep. Sleep would be the last thing on his mind. He shifts, wincing as his body protests the movement, he rises slowly, he has things to do today.

He stretches, loosening his sore muscles and quickly exits his room, stopping as his eyes land on the door in front of him.

A peek. He'll just open the door to check up on him up, make sure he's okay, that he's sleeping fine. Dean slowly eases the door open and his body freezes.

No one is there.

Dean lets out a shaky breath and collapses against the door. It makes sense, why would he stay for even a moment longer when he had told him to get out. He blinks and digs his palms into his eyes, of course he would leave, when the first lesson about his humanity Dean had given him was that the people you love, the people that you trust let you down. That they fail you. He deserves this–no he deserves much worse.

Sam quickly runs towards him, frayed and panicked. "Dean! Cas is-"

"Gone." Dean turns to look at his brother, his eyes sting and his throat tightens. "He's gone."

He deserves this.


End file.
